The Observations of The Friend
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: A series of missing scenes starting with The Critic in The Cabernet. Spoilers for Seasons Three and Four. Friendship piece. *On hiatus*
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: No, don't worry I haven't abandoned my other story (The Heart of The Family). I just wanted to try my hand at writing other (shorter) pieces. This is a missing scene from The Critic in The Cabernet.

While my favorite scenes with Sweets tend to be with Booth and Brennan or Daisy, I enjoy and am intrigued by the dynamic he has with Cam. I wanted to do a bit with the two of them, and this is the result.

I originally planned this to have at least two parts and at the most three. But I wanted to see how this part worked. Thoughts?

And once again, I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

The Observations of The Friend

Doctor Camille Saroyan found herself wandering down the hospital hallways. She had grown tired of just sitting in the waiting room, and had longed for something to do. Brennan was still in the operating room with Booth while they operated on his tumor. His brain tumor, she corrected herself mentally. She remembered the clinical term Brennan used and had recognized it. But like everyone else in the waiting room, all she could focus on were the words 'brain tumor'.

Brennan said that 'statistically' Booth would be fine. Statistically. _'She may be able to compartmentalize like that, but the rest of us can't,'_ Cam thought to herself. She sighed and leaned against a wall. Cam had to admit that she was glad that Brennan had gone into the operating room with Booth. This may be just another procedure for the doctors, but it was everything to the people in the waiting room. It was good to know that there was someone in there who saw Booth as more than just a patient.

It was quiet in the hallway where Cam walked. She could clearly hear the weak '_click-click_' sound her heels made as they hit the floor. There were not many people here. Just some empty rooms with some dirty-orange chairs that looked uncomfortable. She turned her head back toward the path she had taken.

'_I should get back to the waiting room.'_ She knew Angela and Hodgins were still there. The last time she saw them they were holding hands while Angela cried. Sweets, however, had left not long after Brennan had given the news about the tumor and the operation.

That surprised Cam. She was sure he would have wanted to stay until Booth came out of the operating room, but she had not seen him since. _'Maybe he went home or to the office to work rather than dwell on things.'_ It didn't seem like a crazy idea to her. A part of her wished she could leave and bury herself in a gory and complicated autopsy to distract her from what was going on right now. Still, she figured that Sweets would want to know what happened and decided to make a mental note to call him as soon as she knew anything.

Cam finally stopped walking for a moment and looked out a window. She could see the sun beginning to set and the seemingly miniature people below milling toward whatever life they were leading. _'It's like the world is marching on without a care…but it shouldn't. There's a man struggling to survive in here. The best kind of man. The least the world could do is acknowledge it somehow.'_

After a couple more moments, Cam dabbed at the few tears that had managed to leak out. She took a deep breath and started to walk back toward the waiting room. _'Pull yourself together, Cam. You need to be strong for your team. For Seeley.' _She sniffed again at that thought, but straightened her posture even more as her pace developed speed and purpose.

She stopped near a side hallway that crossed the path she had gone before. _'I think this is_ _a shortcut back to the waiting room,'_ she thought to herself. _'I really did wander off.'_

After walking for only a minute on this new path, Cam was stopped by the sound of crying. What stopped her was not so much the crying itself, but the fact that the person doing it sounded familiar somehow. She looked into the room where she heard the sound coming from and was shocked by what she saw.

Sitting there alone on one of those ugly, uncomfortable chairs was Sweets. He was hunched over, his face in his hands. Cam could see his shoulders shaking as he sobbed; his breath coming out in sharp hitches. _'Is this where he's been this whole time?'_ she wondered. She swallowed down a lump forming in her throat. Sweets sometimes irritated her with his poking and prodding of everyone, but she had to admit that she had come to respect his abilities and was beginning to see him as part of their team.

She couldn't leave him like this.

Cam spotted a coffee table that had some napkins and plastic cups on it in the room where he was. She quietly walked over and picked up a couple of the napkins. She then walked over to him.

"Doctor Sweets?" she said, her voice soft. Sweets jerked his head up at the sound of her voice. Cam could see that his eyes were puffy and his cheeks tear-stained. He began to sniff hard.

"Doctor Saroyan…I ah…" he said, brushing his face hard to wipe any tears away. "Is there…is there any news?" Cam held out a couple of napkins to him.

"Nothing yet. I was just heading back to the waiting room," she said as he took the napkins. He quickly wiped his face and blew his nose as he got to his feet.

"Ah…good...I uh…Thank you Doctor Saroyan, I should go," he said, throwing the napkins into a nearby trashcan. Cam put a hand on his arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked. He nodded. A bit too eagerly, Cam thought.

"I'm fine," he said waving a hand. "I shouldn't keep you." Cam tightened her grip on his arm.

"Sweets…it's ok to be upset. We all are. You shouldn't be shutting yourself away like this," she said. She took a deep breath. "You should be there with us in the waiting room. We're a team. We support each other. Especially in times like now." Sweets shrugged off her grip and slid back into the chair he was sitting in, his head tilted downward.

"I'm not one of you," he said in a low voice. Cam pulled up another chair so she could sit across from him.

"Yes you are. Whether we like it or not, you're a part of our team. Booth made sure of that." At the mention of Booth's name, Sweets winced. Cam pat his arm again.

"Booth will be fine. I've known him for years; he's a strong man. Besides you heard what Brennan said. You know she doesn't believe in giving people false hope."

Sweets leaned away from her touch and continued to look down at the tiled floor.

"I should have known," he mumbled. Cam tilted her head at him.

"Known what? About Booth? About the tumor?" she asked.

"I'm a trained psychologist. Or at least I say I am," he said. "The signs were there: moments of increased rage indicating changes in mood. Those hallucinations. I mean I knew that not once, not twice, but three times that he had hallucinated, and I didn't question it." Sweets locked his hands together and began twisting his fingers about nervously.

"And then this whole thing with Doctor Brennan wanting a baby…You know he actually worked up the courage to say something to me?" he said, finally looking up. Cam could see that his eyes were still glassed with tears.

"He finally admitted to feeling anxious and was worried that something was wrong," Sweets continued. "So what did I do? I just brushed it aside. Told him everything was fine, when I should have listened to what he was trying to tell me." He sniffed hard again and looked away from Cam.

"Who knows how long it would have gone on if it weren't for Doctor Brennan," Sweets said as he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to not cry again. After a moment, he looked back at Cam.

"I could have done something. A lot sooner. I…I..." He looked back at the floor. "I failed him. As his friend and as his psychologist."

Cam sat, stunned into silence. _'He's carrying around so much guilt,'_ she thought to herself. As she watched Sweets continue to try to compose himself, she noticed just how young and vulnerable he looked. She knew they all teased him about his age, but at this moment her mind was drifting back to something Booth said to her a couple months ago.

It was after a particularly grueling case. There was a serial murderer involved. Not as bad as Gormogon, but still pretty violent and evil. Sweets had been heavily involved with building a psychological profile, and then interviewing the psycho after they caught him. After it was all over, she, Angela, Hodgins, Brennan, and Booth decided to unwind with a private dinner at their favorite Thai restaurant. It was Booth, who decided to invite Sweets along.

"_I'm surprised Seeley, I mean you already have to see him every week as it is, Cam smiled. "Are you sure you want to bring him along to this too?"_

"_Don't call me Seeley, Camille," he smirked at her. "And yeah, he should come too. Daisy's out of town, and this case put him through the wringer, I'm sure. Even if he does try to mess with your head if you say anything to him." Cam watched as Booth's eyes became wistful, distant._

"_Besides, he's just a kid," he said. "He shouldn't be left alone." After another second, Booth recovered and flashed another smirk at her._

"_Don't tell him I said that though or he'll just want me to 'share my feelings' and all that. I don't need his psycho-mumbo jumbo tonight."_

Back in the present, Cam realized what Booth was implying while watching Sweets now. _'Booth wasn't making fun of his age there,'_ she thought. _'He saw Sweets as someone he needed to protect, and that's what he was trying to do.'_

She knew what she needed to do now.

Cam reached over and took one of Sweets' hands into her own. He looked up at her, startled.

"You didn't fail him, Sweets," Cam said, her voice gentle. "You and I both know how much Booth likes to control the people and the situations around him. He wanted you to think he was fine, and you believed him because, just like the rest of us, you believe in his strength. In his invulnerability. He doesn't like having the people he cares about worry about him. You should know that by now." Sweets' eyes widened at her words.

"But...I...I'm not," he sputtered. Cam gave his hand a light squeeze.

"Yes, that includes you," she said, anticipating his next words. "Seeley will never say it, but he does care about you. Quite a bit. And I think I know why." She leaned toward him. "I think he sees himself in you a bit. I know because I see it too." Sweets pulled away from Cam's hand and shook his head vigorously.

"Oh no, Doctor Saroyan. Booth is nothing like me. I mean, I'm not…" He looked away again. "I could never be him. No matter how hard I tried. I could never be the man he is." Cam gave a low chuckle.

"For a psychologist you seem to have a pretty big blind spot here," she said. Sweets turned back to stare at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. Cam swallowed hard and continued.

"Booth does everything he can to protect the people he cares about. To help them. Even when it could cost him dearly,"she said

"During the murder trial for Max, you were willing to put your reputation on the line by not only by telling a judge that Russ wouldn't run before the trial, but by going along with Brennan's plan to cast suspicion onto herself. And don't tell me you didn't have any idea of what she was planning. I saw the look on your face while you testified, and I remember how carefully you worded your testimony." Sweets opened his mouth to protest, but just let out a sigh instead.

"When the Gravedigger got Booth," Cam said, her voice becoming solemn. "You wanted to stay involved, to help out any way you could. Even though we didn't want you to. What we were doing…giving in to the Gravedigger's demands…that was bad enough, but ultimately, myself, Brennan, Angela, Hodgins…we answer to the Jeffersonian. You, on the other hand, answer to the FBI, the very people we were working against. They could have fired you, demanded that your license be taken away. But what did you do? You begged us to let you help get Booth back. You stayed with us and tried to make sure none of us did something we would regret later." Sweets leaned back in his chair, a look of shock on his face.

"And this whole thing with Brennan wanting Booth's baby," she said. "It's all amusing and somewhat disturbing to us at the Jeffersonian, but it doesn't really change Brennan's place in the lab. Well, for the most part it doesn't. But I'm sure that the FBI would have some ideas about that situation, not very good ones. So, why do I think that the reports from the FBI's own appointed therapist make absolutely no mention of it ?" Sweets shook his head.

"I just…it wasn't…" he muttered. Cam gave him a half-smile.

"No, Doctor Sweets. You didn't say anything because you know what could happen, and you're trying to protect them," she said. She reached for his hand again.

"Just like Booth you try to 'fix' everyone around you, to make sure they're ok," she said. "You hover around us, trying to give us your insight. Even if it's annoying sometimes." She gave a short laugh and was happy to see Sweets give a half-hearted smile back.

"But you're always there for us, when things are bothering us, when we need to talk. I know you think that we don't respect you. But believe me, before you came along, if someone had told me that we would all be willing to give a psychologist the time of day let alone actually listen to him, I would have thought _they_ were crazy."

"But...you know Doctor Wyatt, he…"

"Wyatt is very good at what he does," Cam interrupted. "But staying so close to us and getting involved the way you do was not for him. I think that's clear." Sweets sat up in his chair again, letting go of Cam's hand.

"Now I know Booth picks on you, your youth, your 'squintiness' per se, but what I think you're missing here is that he treats you much like how he treats Jared," she said. At that Sweets' mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Don't be so surprised, Sweets. I'm not," Cam smiled at him. "You're just not used to that kind of relationship, if I'm not mistaken. And considering how lousy the relationship with his actual little brother can be at times, I'm sure he appreciates the one he has with you."

"Doctor Saroyan, I…I don't know…do you really think that?" Sweets asked his voice tinged with awe. Cam nodded.

"I do actually. That's why you need to be with us. We need you, and Booth is definitely going to need you. Especially now." Sweets furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Seeley's in there right now, getting his brain operated on," Cam said. She took another deep breath when she felt tears rising up again. "I know what Brennan said, and I know I should be positive. But…There's just no way that this isn't going to affect him."

"It's a tricky operation, but the doctors…" Cam sniffed a bit and held up her hand to stop him.

"No Sweets. I think he'll recover just fine. Physically. But mentally…I'm sure there will be some…bumps in his recovery. And in a lot of ways that will be even harder for him to deal with."

"Because he doesn't like to appear weak. Out of control," Sweets nodded.

"Exactly. That's where you come in," she said. "Dealing with the mind is your job. We can all support him, but you're the one who will have to help Booth recover mentally."

"But…but I can only help him if he trusts me," he said. "You and especially Doctor Brennan…he's a lot closer…"

"He trusts you, Sweets. I think you'll see that for yourself eventually," Cam said, her tone serious. "You just need to be there for him. As his friend and his psychologist."

Cam rose to her feet and Sweets did the same. He turned from her for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what Cam had just told him. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on Doctor Sweets," she said. "Let's see if we can get an update on him." Sweets finally turned back around, a sad smile on his face.

"Thank you Doctor Saroyan. What you said…it means a lot." Cam chuckled a bit.

"Well don't tell Booth any of it," she said, walking into the hallway. "He'll just deny all of it." Sweets widened his smile a bit at that and followed her.

Cam rubbed her eyes a bit to prevent any more stray tears from coming out. It was still hard to think about Booth being in that operating room.

But she felt a little better knowing that he had a group of people willing to do anything to help him. No matter how it all turned out.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Since the first part was so well received, I decided to go ahead and make it the three part story I had originally planned. This part is from Sweets' POV and takes place after The End of The Beginning.

In the final chapter I plan on having Cam and Sweets meeting again and addressing events leading up to and through The Harbingers in The Fountain. But I've never seen that episode, and I will need to see it before I can write that chapter. Yes, I know what happens in it (brain scans and all), but my method of fanfiction writing requires three things: a pen, a large writing journal, and repeated exposure to my subject matter. I need to see _how_ things happen as well as what....

So be forewarned, there will be a long gap between this chapter's posting and the final chapter's posting.

I want to thank everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. I appreciate it.

**Whybeme**: I don't understand the lack of Sweets/Cam fic myself. That scene in Night at the Bones Museum where Sweets hugs Cam, despite her hands being covered in gore is one of my favorite moments from Season Five. Also, I'm actually working on a series of casefics right now. The first one in the series will definitely be Swaisy-oriented. I think that Daisy does not get much attention in the fanfic world so I'm actually building a story in which she will play a central role. But I'll warn you now that it will be a while; I'm still working on the first draft. ;)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. But I could always dream....;)

The Observations of The Friend—part 2

Doctor Lance Sweets stood by the door to the recovery room. For the past five days, he had anxiously been hoping for this moment, but now that it was here he had to admit; he was terrified.

Special Agent Seeley Booth had finally come out of his coma. The operation had been a success, but he had reacted badly to the anesthesia. Brennan had been there when he woke up, but instead of relief she was faced with a weak and confused Booth asking her who she was.

When Sweets first heard that Booth had amnesia, he was rather heart-broken. He hated the idea that Booth could spend a lifetime building up these precious memories only to lose them. But as Angela, Hodgins and Cam visited him, it became clear that his memories were not so much gone as confused. Cam mentioned that Booth seemed to know that he knew all of them and felt some sort of connection to them, but could not remember their names or their roles in his life.

Sweets asked that he be allowed to visit Booth alone at some point. He wasn't sure how Booth would react to him and what he was going to try to do, but he didn't want Booth to worry about how other people might respond to his reactions.

That led him to this moment outside the door. It had been a couple hours since Booth had had any visitors; Sweets figured this would be the best time to see him. He took a deep breath and opened the door to walk in.

Booth was lying in bed, the lights in the room dim. His head was still wrapped in bandages and he looked pale, tired. The television was on, but the sound was almost all the way down. When he heard Sweets come in, Booth glanced his way and then pushed the button to turn the TV off. Sweets pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed.

"Agent Booth, it's good to see you awake," he said congenially. "How do you feel?" Booth eyed him for a second.

"They tell me I've been in a coma for the past four days. How do you think I feel?" Booth said weakly.

"Sorry, I suppose that's a stupid question," Sweets said his voice calm. Inside though he felt his stomach twisting; he hated seeing Booth so frail.

"I…I know you," Booth mumbled, staring at him. "I remember…we work together…no that's not quite right…" Sweets' heart felt a little lighter at that statement.

"Very good, Agent Booth," he smiled. "That's right; we do know each other rather well. I'm Doctor Lance Sweets. I work with you at the FBI." Booth shook his head slightly.

"Doctor...You've got to be kidding me…" he said. Sweets leaned toward the bed.

"You can trust me, Agent Booth," he said, concerned.

"You can't be a doctor. You're what, twelve?" Booth said. Sweets smirked at him. _'Glad to see some things never change,'_ he thought to himself. In truth, he was glad that Booth was sparing with him the way he used to.

"I'm twenty-four, Agent Booth," he said leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over. "I'm a clinical psychologist and profiler for the FBI. I hold two doctorates and we've had this conversation many times before."

"Great," Booth said with a groan. "I work with a shrink on a regular basis. This just keeps getting better and better." He turned his head a bit so he could look Sweets in the eye. "So what, are you my therapist? Do I need a shrink?" Booth swallowed nervously.

"No, it's not like that," Sweets soothed. He went on to explain how they met, the partners therapy, the book was working on, and the work he did for Booth and the Jeffersonian.

At the end of it, Booth huffed and looked back up at the ceiling.

"So…you study me?" he asked Sweets. "Me and Bo-…uh Bren….that woman who was here when I woke up." He slowly shook his head. "My life makes no sense. I wish…"

"What do you wish Booth?" Sweets asked gently. Booth closed his eyes and sighed.

"When I was…out, I had this dream. She was in it. And that bug guy, that artist, uh Camille. You were in it too…with some other people…I can't explain it. I felt…" Booth groaned again.

Could you tell me about this dream?" Sweets said. Booth shifted in bed and shook his head slightly.

"No, it's just a dream. It's stupid." He looked back at Sweets. "What I want is to remember my life. Camille, she tells me that I have a son. I can barely remember him." Booth's gaze became intense. "I want you to help me remember how things were. I don't need to talk to you about my dreams."

"This dream…you said I was in it. That all of us who have visited you were in it," Sweets said. "It's how you knew that you knew us, isn't it? Why you felt connected to us?" Booth gaped at him for a second and then let out a huge breath.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" Booth asked. Sweets leaned forward again in his chair.

"I don't think I should, do you?" he said. "I think your dream was important to you, no matter how odd it may seem now. In your own way, you were trying to tell yourself something. To hold on to something." Sweets paused for a moment before continuing. "I want to help you find out what this dream was trying to tell you. To help you understand how you feel about it. I believe it will be an important first step in your recovery."

Booth closed his eyes again, and Sweets could hear that his breaths were catching a bit.

"Agent Booth," he said concern seeping into his voice.

"I just want to remember," Booth's voice cracked. "I can't think like this. I feel like my head's scrambled." He looked at Sweets again; this time his eyes had a glint of fear in them. Sweets felt his heart constrict.

"It's...it's not always going to be like this? Is it?" Booth whispered. Sweets took a deep breath and leaned toward him so that he could put his hand on Booth's shoulder. He then put on his best reassuring smile.

"No, of course it won't Booth," he said, forcing his voice to be calm. "You've just been through major surgery. It's natural to have some trauma afterwards. From what I've seen, you haven't lost anything; you're just disoriented right now." To his dismay, Sweets could feel his eyes watering up.

"It will take some time, but I'm sure you'll remember everything," he continued, hoping his voice wasn't quavering. "I will work with you every step of the way, I promise." Booth looked at him, and then the hand on his shoulder. Understanding, Sweets removed his hand and sat back in his chair.

"Sorry," Sweets mumbled. He looked down for a moment to compose himself, and when he looked back up he saw Booth staring at him.

"You really mean that, don't you?" he said. Sweets nodded. "Why? What is all this to you?" Booth asked. Sweets took another deep breath.

"I'm your therapist. I want to help you get well," he said. "And I…I'm your friend. I want to help my friend get his life back." Sweets looked Booth in the eye.

"I just need you to…to trust me," Sweets said in a whisper, swallowing hard.

The two of them sat silently for a few minutes.

"In my dream, I said that I had a soft spot for you," Booth sighed. "It must be true because I can think of no other reason why I'm doing this."

Sweets leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. He tilted his head slightly and gave a brief smile. What Booth didn't notice was how intense Sweets' gaze became; his eyes widened a bit and became distant yet focused. It was the look he gained when he was getting ready to focus his mind and his concentration to its finest point. He was preparing himself to memorize every word and every nuance of what Booth said.

Booth proceeded to tell him everything about his dream: the people there, the roles they had, and the drama that unfolded. Sweets remained perfectly still and silent, absorbing everything that he told him. At the end, Booth looked over to see Sweets shaking his head.

"Wow…that was…very interesting," he murmured. Booth snorted.

"Glad to see you find it so interesting. Now what does it all mean?" he demanded. Sweets shook his head again.

"I'm sorry, Agent Booth. I need time to process what you've told me. But I will say that this dream was _very_ significant. In many ways. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Yeah, well try not keeping your fascinating insights to yourself. Share them with me some time." Booth paused. "And only with me. Got that? No 'collaborating' with other people?"

"Don't worry Agent Booth. Whatever you tell me, remains between us. Unless you want me to tell anyone else." Booth closed his eyes and moaned.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Something else?" Sweets asked.

"Just tired," Booth mumbled. Sweets nodded and stood up.

"I understand. You've had a draining day," he said. "Get some rest, and I will see how you are doing tomorrow." Sweets pushed the chair back to where it was and started to leave the room.

"Sweets," Booth said. Sweets turned to look back at him. "I…uh…thanks….for listening." Sweets gave him a broad smile.

"You're welcome Agent Booth. Anytime," he said. "Have a good night."

With that Sweets walked out, closing the door gingerly behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Yes, I know. It's been a **very** long time since I updated this one and some might have thought that I was never going to return to it. But as I've said in the past, I never like to leave a project unfinished, so it was always my intention to eventually go back and finish this fic. For the longest time though, I was uncertain of how to do it. First, I was waiting to see the Harbingers episode and once I had I was unsure of how I wanted to go from there. I had originally planned on making this a three-chapter fic, but then started to re-think that. Recently, however, I finally figured out where I want to go with this and thus why I am finally updating. Instead of skipping right over to the events that took place during Harbingers, this fic is going to go a little bit more into that missing time between seasons four and five while Booth was still recovering from his coma. Ok, that's a long enough AN, time to get (re)started on the fic. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this fic. If you had read it before, I am sorry that I took so long to update. If you are new to it now, welcome and I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

The Observations of the Friend—part 3

Sweets walked toward Booth's room, briefcase in hand, and started to wonder if there was anything more difficult in his line of work than attempting to treat a patient who had not only forgotten his therapist but who was struggling to find his own identity.

Ever since that first anxious conversation he had with Booth a couple days ago, Sweets had been industriously studying every nuance he could within Booth's case. He consulted with the neurologists who were working with Booth and with the surgeon who operated on him. He then contacted Wyatt, who referred Sweets to psychiatrists who specialized in neuroscience to glean additional insight into Booth's current condition. Large portions of his spare time were spent on amassing as much information as he could on the medical perspective on the brain and then tying it together with what he already knew about the psychological perspective of it.

But Sweets was also all too aware that all of this research and all of this knowledge could amount to nothing if he could not gain Booth's trust.

The psychologist stepped into Booth's room and watched as the agent dozed in his bed. Brennan had been by earlier that day to see him as had the rest of them. None of them said it out loud, but it was clear to Sweets that all of them found Booth's confusion and memory lapses unsettling. Especially Brennan. Sweets had noted during their visit that the anthropologist conversed less and less as time went on, and the trend worried him.

'_Part of how Brennan sees herself is now rooted in her partnership with Booth,' _he mused. '_His losing so much of his identity is forcing her to confront this reality…a reality she might not be able to deal with yet.'_

Sweets frowned. He was worried about Brennan, but was forced to admit that it was Booth who needed his attention right now. He just hoped that the support system Brennan had of friends and family would be enough to ameliorate any issues she could be struggling with.

He crept over toward Booth's bedside and carefully lowered himself down into a nearby chair. He didn't want to disrupt Booth's attempts to rest, but he also knew that the agent's sleep patterns were very erratic right now. Sweets figured that it would only be a short while before he woke up again.

Almost ten minutes later, his predication came true when Booth's eyes blinked open.

"Who's there?" Booth slurred. Sweets leaned over closer to him.

"It's me, Agent Booth," he said. "It's Doctor Sweets. We talked about your dream a couple days ago and yesterday we briefly went over your job at the Bureau."

"I can barely see you," Booth mumbled. "It's…it's like there's two of you and both of you are fuzzy and jumbled."

"Do you recognize my voice?" Sweets asked softly.

"Yes, kind of," Booth croaked. "You're that kid, the bartender who had his own band…No, wait. That's not right….You're the shrink."

"Yes, excellent," Sweets nodded. "That's exactly who I am. Have you been having a lot of problems with your vision?"

"Yes…no…I don't know, sometimes," Booth replied. "Sometimes when I wake up, things are blurry."

"Probably a temporary side effect of your surgery, much like your memory loss," Sweets said. "It will pass." Despite his saying that, the therapist made a mental note to speak to the doctor about this. Partially for Booth's sake and partially to alleviate his own concerns.

Suddenly, Booth sat up and pulled back his covers. Sweets sat upright in his chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Booth snapped at him. He then started to move off the bed, but stumbled back down, disoriented and trembling from exertion. He was about to fall forward, but Sweets leapt up and caught him by the shoulders.

"Agent Booth, you just had major surgery," Sweets said as he held him lie back down. "Brain surgery, no less. You're not ready for much in the way of physical activity yet."

"I know what I just had," Booth shot back. "Trust me, I'm reminded of it every time I wake up. And I'm not attempting a bunch of physical activity. I just want to get a drink of water."

Sweets finished helping him back into bed and then walked over to pour the agent a cup of water from the pitcher nearby. He then sat back down after handing it to Booth.

"You don't have to keep doing stuff for me," Booth sighed. Sweets nodded but said nothing. Normally, he would have agreed with Booth on this. Sweets saw him as a strong, independent person who wouldn't want to be waited on hand and foot. He suspected that it somewhat demoralizing for the agent to be so weak and dependent on others right now. Mainly because it made Sweets' own heart ache a little to see it.

"Hey, do you have a picture of my son?" Booth asked as he sat the paper cup down on the nightstand beside his bed.

Sweets nodded and picked up his briefcase up off the floor beside him. In it was a set of files that the therapist was compiling on Booth and his life: his military service, his work at the Bureau and various pieces of the agent's personal life that he had been able to gather from people who knew Booth. Once in a while, Sweets felt somewhat uncomfortable with having so much access considering how private Booth had been with him in the past.

But as he handed the photo of Parker over to Booth and watched the agent's eyes light up, Sweets was grateful that he could bring some bright glimmer of cheer to Booth while he was working through this ordeal and that went a long way to easing Sweets' concerns.

"I remember him," Booth said. "Parker. I…I named him after a friend of mine in the Army. Teddy Parker…I…I..When people mentioned that I had a son, I kept thinking that it could be this kid who I had pictured in my mind. Good to know that I wasn't just imagining that."

Sweets grinned in response. The fact that Booth was able to make that connection and remember so much felt like a positive sign to him, and he hoped to see more of this in the near future.

"You know when Brennan…when she told me that she was pregnant. I was so happy," Booth added, still gazing at the photo. "I'd wanted to be a father for a long time…at least, I think I did. So, I'm glad that that didn't go away too."

Sweets' face fell. He was so focused on helping Booth recover his memories, he sometimes forgot that the agent was also grappling with a sense of loss.

"Agent Booth…." Sweets began.

"And that's another thing," Booth interrupted. "This whole 'Agent Booth' bit. I get that you're trying to remind me of my job, but can't we drop the titles for now? Having you refer to me as 'Agent' when I can't remember any of that…it's irritating."

For a second, Sweets was slightly irritated himself, but he quickly let go of that feeling. Truthfully, he relished the opportunity to take one more step toward a sense of greater familiarity between them.

"All right…Booth," he smiled back before regaining his more neutral demeanor. "You said that you were glad that the fact of you being a father did not 'go away too' when you woke up. What did you mean by that?" Booth let out a loud sigh and sank into his bed.

"It's just something I was thinking, Sweets," he groaned. "You don't need to pick apart everything I say. Besides that…why are you here again anyway?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Sweets replied. "And I came to see if there was anything else that you would like to share with me. About your dream or anything else that might be on your mind. Aside from that, I thought that we could perhaps go over more portions of your life that you have questions about."

"Oh," Booth said, looking away.

"Booth, I know that this is all very frustrating, disorienting and maybe even a little frightening to you, but…."

"Don't tell me how I feel," Booth snapped again. "Until someone puts your brain into a blender and hits the mix button, you'll have no idea how I feel or what this is like."

"You're right," Sweets shrugged. "You're right, I don't know. I don't have a clue as to what it's like for you. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to help. And part of that means that I need you to tell me more about these thoughts, feelings and experiences that you are having. I need for you to continue to trust me."

Booth huffed and turned his head even further toward the wall. Sweets knew that he was asking a lot from him. Ever since the day he had met him, Sweets sensed that Booth was not the type to trust people easily or to divulge much of himself all that often. Now, he was asking Booth to do all of that with a person he barely knew outside of a dream. Still, the therapist knew that he would have to continue to encourage Booth to let go of some of that reserve in order to treat him. Right now, though Sweets was at a loss to know what to do next or how he might approach such a task.

A snore interrupted Sweets' reverie. He stood up and leaned over to see that Booth was asleep again. The psychologist then sank back down into his chair, careful to not do it too swiftly lest the cushion hiss or puff with air. Sweets figured that it was probably a little irrational, but a part of him couldn't help but think that Booth's sniper training would make him sensitive to even the slightest noise, even now.

Once he was settled into his chair, Sweets pulled out a yellow legal pad and flipped through some notes he had made while researching Booth's condition. Several minutes later, the agent stirred, the action causing Sweets to raise his head.

"Where am I?" Booth murmured. "Am I back? Who's there?"

"Booth, it's me, Sweets," the psychologist answered. "You're in the hospital." Booth turned his head so as to face the ceiling and blinked several times.

"I knew that. I did," he breathed. "It's just…it's so hard to see straight sometimes."

"And when you can't see, you lose your bearings," Sweets nodded. "That's understandable."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Booth asked, his voice strained. The agent then moved his blanket up closer to his shoulders and sighed again.

"Hey, uh, Sweets…What I said earlier, I just, I was just thinking….Sometimes, I fall asleep and um, I wonder what's going to happen when I wake up. Will I be back in that dream or will I be here? Then I think about all the stuff that's missing. I had a life, a job, a club, a family, a group of friends. I had a child on the way. But now…all that, that life, it's all gone. I'm here and…and I don't know what's the same and what's different now. I keep asking myself, what am I going to lose next?"

"Booth, you have lost some things, but you have and you will gain many others," Sweets assured him. "You have a son, you have a vocation, a purpose here. And while some things are different here, some things are not."

"Like what?" Booth grumbled.

"You still have a family and a group of friends who care about you and who will support you," Sweets answered. "You don't need to worry about losing any of that every time you close your eyes. We will be here every time when you wake up."

Booth continued to stare silently at the grey textured ceiling tiles for a while before finally turning toward Sweets.

"Do you have the remote?" he asked the therapist. "Because I was hoping to watch TV and maybe take a short nap before you get started on the shrink stuff."

"Sure," Sweets said before getting up. He then grabbed the remote control and turned the television on before handing the remote to Booth, who immediately began to mash the channel buttons. Sweets watched the stations zip by until a sound from Booth caused him to look back toward the bed.

"And, uh Sweets," Booth said. "You could stay for a while and watch some TV too, I mean, if you know you don't have some other shrink stuff to do instead." Sweets smiled and turned his chair to face the television before sitting back down.

"Sure Booth," he said. "I can stick around. Any chance that I could have one of your puddings when they…."

"Not a chance, Sweets," Booth growled. Sweets stifled a laugh and he went back to watching the channels drift by until Booth fell asleep again.


End file.
